Chances are, you will be reintroduced to yourself
during these crooked times.

It’s like, after a lifetime of agony, all the while—
you were just waiting for an epiphany to strike.

Your present and your future will start to talk.
Discuss.
And persuade.

And on your feet,
you will take another leap of faith or
just anything that will trigger a strict change.

And again, after a lifetime,
you will meet yourself.

And all will be realigned.

A house alone on a plateau of greens,
A dangerous tour amid the vast cement of ruralness,
And a nervous hand in a stifling box
~Or sometimes with a little tune of friendly laughter~
There sat a mind that’s floating and a heart that’s thrusting.

Under the austere sun blazing high
And the air that was sandy,
The orange hues were blending with the wind.
Greens, too, were present
And other colors perfecting a sight
of a scenic view.

There were six heads with dry and stiff hairs
And drained skins.

Those were the days, and they didn’t know it.
And only after those days did they realize
That happiness was everywhere
That ~that~ was a favorite amongst other whereabouts
Where they wished:
Should this be the only livable life
Cause then they would not ever want to perish
Nor leave this point in time.

Yet, they were too high
And naive
And now all are missed.

Like the leaves that were rustling with the wind
Touching surfaces, blocks, and walls
Reflecting adult-like banters
Each passing,
Going back and forths

Like those pebbles that were skipping
branches that were kissing
And dirt flying against our skins
Each passing,
Retiring from mine to hers

A thousand chirps I did not mind
Yet a venture made it clear
Your soul is a wanderer
Like mine. Yet, we ought we’re not as much
As we thought we’re alike

I am a blabber.
What I’m trying to do,
I don’t know.

I wish people didn’t have to have too many baggages.
I wish I didn’t have one now,
I wish you didn’t either.

But what else could be there
that contributes to this unrelenting,
disheartening bicker of
who gets the points for good karma?

Is it pride? Sure.
How about nonchalance and indifference? I’d say yes.

What I’m trying to do, I don’t know.
What I’m trying to understand, I can’t grasp.
Who I try to remember, I’m trying to bury.

I.
Your presence beamed like the moonlight it ought to be
Your spell wandered
Hugging trees and blessing pavements
And I let your love grow within me

I had nothing else to say
Only love, all glamour
Perfections to imperfections
All reeking of positivity

We chased and soared with the wind
Braving it then and there, we were a team
And deeper I fell
In a trap I wouldn’t know even after years

II.
The peaks are over
The tides have changed
An infinity of reasons, another after another
Confusion made us insane

Apologies have piled on top of each other
Despite, we beseeched our love to stay
Dear, we thought we’re unbreakable
Yet the hurricane consumed us in every way

Benches and cushions
Of where we sat upon our confessions
And there, calmly, we bid our goodbyes
As there were no amendments, no resolutions

III.
My love, how did you become a stranger
Are we what they spew out to be true?
That our love is ‘posed be questioned
All these years, these years that have gone through

But we know, I ought we know
That we have loved so dearly
Yet the wick has burnt
It’s time to let things be

I make funny faces on my own
As a distraction to my ****** flesh
From creating a wrinkly wretched face
Or to make a whiny weeping sound
Like of a moaning mammal

**** feelings and that crippled creature!
Though tonight passes as a surmountable story
This reaction from a minute moment
Woke the bewildered Bukowski in me
Oh God no, am I a lifeless laughingstock?

Some days your mind floats like dandelions,
wandering aimlessly
on and on.

Like magic,
like dust,
like time you cannot touch–
you are lost in your universe
crushing dreams and unweaving expectations

Until suddenly,
gravity pulls you back
into your sheets.

Your eyes,
hostaged in reality,
come back in its consciousness

You wake up,
let a tear drop,
and feel bad for breathing.